


My Last Thoughts are of You

by SKayLanphear



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Blood, Car Accidents, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, LadyNoir - Freeform, Language, Marichat, Near Death Experiences, Reveal, Trauma, adrienette - Freeform, traumatic reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-19 20:26:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5979993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKayLanphear/pseuds/SKayLanphear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a freak accident sends Marinette into critical condition, the only thing she can think about is Chat Noir. She wasn't going to make it and someone had to tell him. Otherwise, he'd never know what had happened to her--why his lady had never returned. And, as it just so happens, Adrien is there with her near the end, so she decides that he can take the message to Chat just as well as anyone. </p><p>No character death, I promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**MARINETTE**

It was ironic, really, that this, of all things, would be her end. She willingly put herself in danger every other day, swinging around Paris with little regard for her safety. Yet this, an accident on an ordinary day—with no akuma in sight—would be her last.

Ladybug would just be gone, and no one would know to where.

She took in a sharp breath, eyes wide as she saw the bumper of the truck headed her way. She saw the man behind the wheel too, the way he was gaping, frantically trying to turn the truck away from her. But it was too late, there was no room. That other car had pulled out into the street when it shouldn't have and he'd swerved. And now his truck was headed right for her section of the sidewalk.

She had a bag of cookies in her hands—from her parents' bakery. Her _parents_. They were going to be so upset. Heartbroken. She felt guilty for that.

And for Alya, Nino, and Adrien too, who were standing on the other side of the street, waiting for her.

Just as the truck was on her, she flicked her gaze their way. Nino was yelling, gesturing, and Alya had her hands up by her lips, horror flashing over her face. And Adrien, he was stepping forward, mouth open in a shout as though he would actually be able to warn her in time.

He was moving out into the street, but hadn't looked both ways. He should have—that was dangerous.

His eyebrows were pulling together above his brilliant green eyes. It wasn't a bad sight, especially for her last one.

 _Green eyes_.

Chat. Chat had green eyes too.

Who would tell Chat?

Like the impact had been a pinprick in a balloon of sound, it all came rushing through her at once. The screeching brakes; the impact that sent her flying. The gasps of dismay by onlookers and how Alya was screaming her name. Tikki, too, who was sent flying, caught in her broken purse and unable to get out.

It was sunny, she could see. The sky was blue. And her body was crumbling.

Someone would have to tell Chat.

"Marinette!" Alya was screaming again, so close now. And then there were faces above her, and the sounds of distant, frantic discussion. "I'm sorry! I tried to avoid her!" "Someone call 112!" "Is she alive? Is she okay?!"

"Marinette!" Alya cried above her, that familiar face blurring in and out. She had to get her message across. She had to say something. But her voice seemed so heavy and far away, plagued by the impossible suffocation her body was trying to snuff out. Because the pain was so bad that her brain knew there was no other solution than to ignore it.

"Ch-" She tried to latch onto the words. She had to. He'd never know. _He'd never know_. "T-tell him," she managed to sputter out, her voice sounding gargled and lost. Not her own. Hurt maybe, or plugged. With something. Iron? No, that wasn't it. She knew what it was. "You have- tell- Cha-"

"Shh, shh," Nino tried to calm above her, his expression panic-stricken. "There's an ambulance coming, okay?" Were those tears on his cheeks? And Alya's too? She was sorry they had to see this. She didn't want them to be there.

"Tell… hm…" No. Those words weren't enough. She had to keep trying, but breathing was becoming so hard.

"You're okay, Marinette, everything's gonna be alright." Adrien. Adrien was there too, above her. Those green eyes. And he looked calm, determined. Familiar.

He'd do it. She had to make sure he did. "You have to tell h-him!" she managed to blurt out abruptly, coughing twice as she did. Her brain let her feel a moment, locate her hand, her arm. She reached up, grabbing Adrien by the wrist. Was he touching her? Quelling the blood maybe? She didn't know.

All she knew was that Chat would always wonder. And she loved Chat so much. He was her partner. Her best friend. And she loved Adrien too, but it wasn't the same. No, in that moment it was like she was finally seeing how different it really was. Because she'd taken Chat for granted, hadn't she? And now she'd never see him again, and he'd never know.

"Marinette, don't strain-"

She cut Adrien off. "You tell him!" she forced out, aware that there must have been blood running out her lips, down her chin, clogging her voice. She grit her teeth against it, putting all the strength she had left into her voice. "Tell Chat!"

He was clearly confused, but he'd stopped objecting to her speaking. He was listening. That was all she needed.

"Tell Chat what- what happened to m-me," she pushed. "He won't know. He- he- he won't know what h-happened."

"Tell Chat what? I don't understand! Marinette!" Adrien was up by her head now, breathing across her face. Those green eyes were searching. So close. "Marinette! Tell Chat what?!"

"Tell him I- that I- that I didn't want to leave him." She choked some, unable to breathe, and then her head was propped up and Adrien was so close. It was getting darker, but she focused on those eyes. So like Chat's. She'd never realized. "Tell him I- I was thinking… of him." Her hand squeezed around Adrien's wrist. "Tell that s-silly cat that I'm- I'm s- sorry."

So much green. Maybe she could pretend like he was there. Pretend that Adrien was Chat. Who'd have figured that was what she'd want in her last moments?

Her stupid kitty cat.

"Marinette!" Adrien's voice rang in her ear. "No, no, no, no, no! Don't leave me!" He was holding her up further, but she'd let her eyes fall closed. It was easier, because she was so tired. Besides, Chat would know now. And that was important. "You can't leave me! I need you! Marinette! You're all I've got!"

Drifting. Drifting felt nice.

"NO! Don't do this! MARINETTE! I can't lose you!"

Just tell Chat. That was what she would have said, if she could talk. But her voice was long gone. Her body too, it felt like. Dying. It wasn't so bad.

Not how she expected it to happen, but that was alright.

She just wished she could have seen him again.

Just one last time.

**oOo**

**ADRIEN**

It wouldn't stop replaying. Over and over and over again in his head. That truck, the way it'd just thrown her body away—like it was nothing more than a rag doll, ready to be ripped apart. He'd seen it before, bodies flying. And so he'd jumped immediately into rescue mode. He'd gone for her, but it'd been too late. So his professional brain had bounded to the next best thing.

Do whatever he could.

He'd raced to her side with Alya and Nino, taking in the gruesome sight with a calm only years on the field had trained into him. He bent down beside her, ignoring the awkward throw of her limbs and the blood. So much blood.

"Someone call 112!" he'd ordered sharply, spotting right away that the majority of the blood was coming from a serious gash in her abdomen. He'd pushed his hand into it, trying to futilely stop the flow. But it wasn't working. He knew it wasn't even as he did it. Marinette—shy, sweet, pretty Marinette—he wasn't going to be able to save her this time.

It was astounding to him, then, when faced with the severity of her wounds, that she'd even remained conscious. That she was trying to speak.

He'd tried to tell her not to strain herself, but those blue eyes were hard, almost clear, and he stared in shock when she grabbed him.

Then she was talking again, and this time he made sure to listen.

"Tell Chat what- what happened to m-me. He won't know. He- he- he won't know what h-happened."

The second felt slow, but that must have been how long it took him to realize what she was saying. Because, at first, he'd thought he'd misheard. She wanted him to tell someone something. Someone called "Chat." Within that second, his brain told him that _he_ was Chat. That there was only one Chat that would be referred to so deliberately.

"Tell Chat what? I don't understand! Marinette!" His blood had gone cold. Because she was trying to tell him something and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. Marinette was his friend, but he was managing to keep a logical distance in those immediate moments. He wasn't sure he wanted to get sucked in. But she had something to tell him, and if he—Chat—was what she was thinking of, he couldn't refuse her. "Marinette! Tell Chat what?!"

"Tell him I- that I- that I didn't want to leave him," she said, and he didn't understand. "Tell him I- I was thinking… of him. Tell that s-silly cat that I'm- I'm s- sorry."

_Silly cat._

That was when he knew. And his whole world fell down around him.

He tried to keep her with him, screamed her name, but she was getting heavier and heavier. Abruptly, it wasn't that he was calm enough to deal with the situation, but, rather, helpless to do anything. She was small in his arms, broken and bleeding, and he'd been too slow. He'd failed her.

And now he was _losing_ her.

"No, don't close your eyes!" he commanded, his hand bloodied as he turned her head to face him. It'd lolled to the side, only a slit of that blue—that familiar, striking blue—visible. "Don't go! I can't do this without you!" He was crying. He knew he was. Sobbing maybe, but he didn't care. "You're all I have! Please, please don't do this!" He was begging her. If she'd just hold on. If the blood would just stop. But she couldn't and it wouldn't. And her body was twisted in ways it shouldn't be. Slipping through his fingers.

Nothing he could do.

"Please, please, no," he begged, teeth gritted as he pulled her closer. As he cradled her against his chest and released a painful sob that felt as though it was carrying his heart with it. "Please don't leave me…"

He didn't know what he'd do without her. His mother was gone; his father was in prison. She was all he had in the world—she _was_ his world. Maybe it was selfish, but he couldn't imagine his life without her in it. Sometimes he felt as though their patrols through the night were all the kept him tied down—all the kept him sane. He needed her. She was _everything_.

There was a reason he was always throwing himself between her and immanent danger. There was a reason he always put her above himself. Because he didn't know how to live without her.

He _couldn't_ live without her.

"Hold on a little l-longer, _please_ ," he begged, unable to face the fact that she couldn't hear him. That the color had faded from her cheeks and that there was a pool of red all around them. He tried to situate her more comfortably, until her whole body was leaning against his. It didn't help, nothing could, and he didn't know what to do. "The ambulance will get here, so j-just a little bit longer."

He buried his nose in her hair, eyes squeezing closed as tears continued to leak down his cheeks. His chest was burning, pained, and his breath was labored. He was having trouble breathing—he was having trouble thinking. His whole body was shaking, only how tightly he held her in his arms keeping him still. He had to hold on. Maybe then he could keep her there with him.

Maybe then she would stay.

"Get out of they way!" Voices. He ignored them. He couldn't let her go. Refused. "Move, kid!"

It was all a blur, what happened next. Because one moment he'd had her and the next she was being pulled from his arms. Or he was being pulled from her. Either way, it didn't matter—because he wouldn't have it. He wouldn't lose her.

He could feel arms pulling him back, even as he struggled. Wrapped around his shoulder, his waist. Hauling him away as others crowded around her, blocking his view.

He spat and twisted, hollowing in outrage. He clawed at them, and kicked out, and tried to get away—to get back to her. But they wouldn't let go and he wasn't strong enough to throw them off. Not without Plagg. But he tried. He _tried_. He fought them until there were more, until they were shouting at him to stop. But he didn't care! Even as they lowered and held him to the ground, crying, kicking, and screaming, he fought.

He lashed out until the sky grew blurry and the world faded away.

**oOo**

**ALYA**

She didn't know what to do. She was shocked, and panicked, and there was so much blood. This was her best friend, her closest, and she couldn't do anything to help but sit there and watch as her life drained away atop the concrete sidewalk.

Even Adrien was being more useful—giving commands, somehow staying calm. He didn't even hesitate to shove his hands into the blood, into the wound. Alya couldn't even touch Marinette, and she was shaking, and she was saying her name. But none of that was any good. None of that changed what had happened.

It was only the sound of Marinette's voice that caught her attention. The same voice that had called to her so many times, that had greeted her in the mornings before class and whispered to her about Adrien right behind his back. It was burned into her psyche like a brand, the sound of it a string that pulled her attention front and center, even through the panic and the shock.

If she could do nothing else, she could listen. She could hear whatever it was Marinette had to say. The words were strangled, however, struggling, and difficult to understand. There was blood slipping out from between her lips and Alya felt her tears falling anew at the sight. She wanted to help, she wanted to do whatever she could, but it was too much. It was too big.

Marinette was clutching at Adrien, like she was searching for any kind of leverage that would keep her afloat, if only for a little longer. Her gaze was hard, determined, maybe even a little desperate.

"Tell Chat what- what happened to m-me. He won't know. He- he- he won't know what h-happened." Marinette was laboring to breathe, let alone speak, and because of that, whatever she was saying had to be important. Nonetheless, Alya didn't understand. What did Chat Noir have to do with this? He couldn't save her. Not even he could do anything.

"Tell Chat what? I don't understand! Marinette!" Adrien called out to her, wanting the same confirmation that Alya did. To make those words—she refused to think last— _mean_ something.

"Tell him I- that I- that I didn't want to leave him," Marinette gasped out. "Tell him I- I was thinking… of him. Tell that s-silly cat that I'm- I'm s- sorry."

Alya could only blink against her tears, trying to digest. Yet, in same moment, Adrien seemed to be catching on faster than she could. Because it was written all over his face. The way his lips gaped, and how his brow furrowed. Only for that expression to be wiped away as his eyes got big, something Alya didn't understand flashing there.

It was like watching a movie, so close, yet untouchable. Because all the color had drained from Adrien's face and he was staring at Marinette, holding her, gulping as though he'd come to an abrupt realization. One that left him gasping as he reached out to collect her, as he pulled her to him.

As his own tears littered down across his frantic words.

"No, don't close your eyes! Don't go! I can't do this without you!" he was begging, crying out, knuckles white as he held her limp body to him. "You're all I have! Please, please don't do this!" He'd laid her across his bent legs, staring at her like she was the last breath he'd ever take. Like she was everything. And Alya didn't understand.

She didn't understand!

Her best friend had asked one thing of them, but what did it mean? What could they do?

"Please don't leave me…" Adrien spoke through gritted teeth, his voice coming out in a desperate, heartbroken plea. The expression on his face, Alya didn't recognize it. There was so much there—so much she didn't know. Like he was being ripped apart. "The ambulance will get here, so j-just a little bit longer," he murmured softly, as though his voice were being wisped away from him with her. Alya wanted to ask. She wanted to understand. Because this had started with Marinette's words and that was all she had. That was all that was left.

"Get out of the way!" Harshly, Alya was pushed aside, Nino grabbing her arm and hauling her back as the paramedics rushed the scene. They yelled at Adrien too, but he didn't move. Rather, he held Marinette tighter, his face buried in her hair as the police rushed in.

They grabbed him, yanking him back as Marinette slid from his lap.

And then he fought. Fought like nothing Alya had ever scene before. Like an animal.

There were two cops dragging him back, trying to hold him. But, though he was thin, he was tall and well muscled. He lashed out, arms swinging with his fingers curling into claws. He smacked the first officer with his elbow, slashing the other one across the arm with his nails.

But they didn't release him. Ducking against Nino, Alya watched as two more cops came down on him. He kicked out, hissing and flailing, and they reached for his legs. And as they caught them, holding the limbs as he bucked against them, one of the most horrible sounds Alya had ever heard left his lips.

She'd remember it for nights afterward, that screeching howl. His muscles were tense, fingers still curled. He shrieked up at the sky as the cops threw him harshly to the ground. Like a crazed monster, he cried out. It was sheer agony, raw and pulsing and enough to cause everyone in the vicinity to shrink away. Even Alya and Nino, the both of them shaking.

And it seemed to go on forever, echoing between the buildings and up into the Paris sky. Yet, still, Adrien struggled. He writhed and screamed, and it took the weight of all four cops to hold him down. To the point where they were suffocating him. His eyes were wide, manic, and in pain. That was all he was feeling, Alya realized. It was like his humanity was gone and all that remained was pure animal nerve—an instinctual reaction.

A last and final defense.

The struggle only came to a stop as a result of him losing consciousness, no doubt due to lack of oxygen. And as his shriek finally became only an echo in her ears, Alya turned to see Marinette's limp body being loaded into the ambulance, surrounded in machines and blankets and paramedics. Without that scream, the rest came flooding in. The shouts of everyone around, the sirens, the clanging as the gurney was loaded and shut up behind closed doors.

And just like that, she was gone.

Just like that, it'd happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**ALYA**

Adrien was conscious again, some seven minutes later. The cops still stood around where he lay, watching with wary expressions as his eyes flew open. His breathing became immediately harsh, ragged, and his attention flitted between them quickly—too quickly.

And then he was on his feet, faster than anyone could really register. Grabbing the cop closest to him by the collar with his bloodied hands, he shoved him harshly into the lamppost nearby, lips curled into a snarl as he pushed him up off his feet.

" _Where is she?!_ " he growled—really growled—and the other cops were fumbling to draw their Tasers.

"T-the hospital!" his victim sputtered out, one of the cops finally managing to pull out a Taser. Taking aim, they pushed the button just as Adrien dropped the man he'd been holding to the ground.

With unexpected grace, he spun and ducked, the Taser shooting right over him as he flew forward. Alya gasped, Adrien reaching out with strong, steady hands toward the man who'd taken aim. He grabbed the cop's wrist and twisted, perhaps with the intent to break the bone, and the cop yelped.

This was out of control. She hadn't been able to do something before, but Alya could try now.

"Adrien!" she shrieked, pushing herself away from Nino. "Stop it!" She'd closed her eyes, not wanting to see any more, and balled her hands at her sides. "Stop it right now!"

When silence was what followed, she found the courage to look again.

The cops still had their Tasers drawn, but they weren't firing. Rather, Adrien was standing in the middle of them, fingers still curling into claws as he stared directly at Alya. He was breathing through wide nostrils, his arms coated and his shirt soaked in red. It was a gruesome, terrifying sight, and Alya almost wanted to run.

But, as though seeing the terror in her expression, his own finally cleared some. He blinked, his snarl becoming a gape. Realization dawned on him, his attention flitting around to cops still on alert. But he didn't go for any of them. Rather, he seemed to sway some on his feet, one of his hands coming up to his forehead, leaving a red smudge in its wake.

"I'm sorry," he managed to sputter out, not heeding the warnings from the Tasers as he stumbled forward. The cops didn't shoot, and so he fumbled his way past Nino and Alya, up onto the sidewalk and into the yard beyond. It was the outskirts of a park, his march coming to a stop when he found some leverage against a tree. There, he began to shake again, falling to his knees.

"We'll take care of him," Nino was saying behind her, Alya watching as Adrien folded in on himself, bowed over as though he might be sick. "Don't worry, he's just upset. He'd not dangerous."

Clearly he was, but the cops still had to deal with the accident, with the blood and the onlookers and the driver of the truck. They didn't have time for a melodramatic teenager, and so they nodded and headed off with one last look in Adrien's direction.

"Holy shit," Nino was muttering over and over again as he came up beside her, sweaty as he rubbed his hands together. They were both watching Adrien now, until a police officer came up and distracted them. They were asked who the girl was, who her parents were, how they could contact them. Alya gave out all the information robotically, told shortly after to make sure she and Nino stayed at the scene for further questioning.

That was when it caught her eye. The slight movement in the grass beside Adrien. She'd been about to set her attention back on him. He was curled up against the tree now, crying and staring out at nothing—like he was seeing something else entirely. But beside him, something was moving. Something Alya had seen before.

"Marinette's purse," she murmured before beginning to head forward across the grass. Her eyes zeroed in on it. It must have flown off when she'd been hit, tossed aside. But now it was being dragged through the grass, somehow, and had come to a halt just beside Adrien.

But he wasn't paying attention, and so it was Alya that fell down beside it, picking it up gingerly. She could feel Nino hovering just behind her, looking between herself and Adrien warily, but she didn't let it faze her. Rather, she gaped down in shock at the two big, green eyes blinking up at her. A small black body had been under the purse, dragging it across the lawn. And even as she held the purse, Alya could feel movement inside it.

Not knowing what she was looking at or what to think, she popped the clasp on the purse, a red blur shooting out the second she did.

"Marinette!" a small voice screamed, zooming off before coming back and zooming off again. " _Marinette_!"

"Tikki! Calm down!" the black smudge scolded, zipping up and grabbing the red blur before yanking it back down to the grass again. "You're going to make it worse than it already is!"

"Plagg!" the red blur—a small, black spotted thing—pleaded, grabbing the black one with tiny arms. "Where is she?! Where is Marinette?!"

"They took her to the hospital," Plagg said quietly.

"I need to go see her!" Big blue eyes were crying. "If you're here, then where's Chat Noir?! He'll get us there, right? Right?!"

Plagg didn't say anything, instead seeming to gulp (if such creatures could do so), before glancing hesitantly up at Adrien. Adrien, who still seemed to be in some kind of silent shock.

Tikki caught on immediately. "Chat Noir!" She zoomed up into Adrien's face, her tiny voice squeaking. "We have to go to Marinette! We have to-"

"Tikki! Stop! Someone will hear!" Plagg hissed, grabbing her before dragging her back down. "We can't risk-"

Approaching footsteps caught Alya's attention. Reaching out, she quickly herded the two creatures into Marinette's purse, ignoring the squeaks of protest, before turning her head over her shoulder to face the two police officers heading toward them.

More questioning. More remembering. No answers. Alya just wanted it to be over.

**oOo**

**ADRIEN**

He wasn't sure how he'd gotten there. He wasn't sure of anything. His whole body felt numb and he just wanted to lay down and die. Maybe that was what he was in the process of doing. It was cold beneath him, and the lights above his head flickered some. His cheek was flattened, telling him he was in fact lying somewhere.

But he didn't have it in him to care where. Because everything was red and Marinette's words were still in his head, banging around so hard that it was giving him a headache. Or maybe that was just the pain, the agony he knew his body was numbing him to because it was too much. Overload. It was easier to die than face this. To live without her.

 _Ladybug_.

"He's awake," someone said above him, their voice sounding slow. "Here, see if he'll sit up and drink something." It was familiar. Alya, maybe. Perhaps that made sense.

"Hey, c'mon man, you got to sit up." That was Nino, Adrien's brain finally managing to catch up with their words. "You've been in and out for the last two hours. You got to drink something."

He didn't want to get up. He wanted to lie there forever. But Nino was pulling on his shoulders, as if to force him up, and the jostling shook some kind of movement into him. Bracing his hands against the chill of the floor, he sat up, his head swimming and dizzy as the room threatened to upend itself before him.

"Hey, you're alright, man," Nino muttered. "Deep breaths."

He didn't bother with the command, instead swallowing hard. He was hit by the pain then, the dryness of his throat as it burned, and he cringed against it.

"Here, drink this." Alya held a cup rather forcefully up to his lips, drawing his attention despite himself. Reaching out with a shaky hand, he accepted the offered beverage, only taking physical satisfaction as the cool liquid coated his throat. But, without the burning, it made everything else come into focus.

He wasn't sure if he wanted that or not.

"I'm not trying to be pushy," Alya said a second later, Adrien's eyes slowly looking her way, "but I found this." Was that Marinette's purse?

 _Marinette_.

"And there are these… things."

"We're not things!" Plagg yelled from inside the purse. "Will you let me out?! You cannot continue to hold me prisoner, foul woman!" He must be really angry, or so Adrien thought only quickly. He only let loose the dated insults when he was at his worst.

Reaching out and ignoring the constant quiver in his hands, Adrien popped the clasp on the purse, Plagg bursting out a second later. He zoomed immediately into the collar of Adrien's jacket, glaring out at Alya and Nino through slitted eyes.

The other kwami floated up out of the purse at a considerably slower pace.

Adrien had never seen her before, Ladybug's kwami. But he could tell by the way her arms and legs sagged, and how her antennas hung, that she was in bad shape. Cupping his hands together, he held them out. The little kwami floated down into them, looking up at him with sad, hopeless eyes.

"Chat," she squeaked out. "Is Marinette okay?"

The question hit him like a spear to the gut.

"I don't know," he answered honestly, his voice scratchy and strained. "I don't… I don't know anything."

"She's in surgery right now," Alya cut in, the red kwami—Adrien remembered her name was Tikki—turning to look up at her. "She's been in surgery for two hours, and I… I think it's probably going to be a long time yet."

"She's…" Adrien found the words were choking him as he tried to get them up. "She's _alive_?"

"I… For now," Alya said carefully. "They… they warned us before she went into surgery that…" She tried to gulp back her tears and failed. "That she might not make it. She's in really bad shape."

But, for the moment, she was alive. As if he'd previously been floating, Adrien's whole world abruptly rocked back into place. So harshly, in fact, that it sent his stomach churning, the nausea riding up through him before he could do anything to stop it.

"Oh shit," Nino swore, standing abruptly. He grabbed the trashcan nearby, slamming it down before grabbing Adrien by the arm and hefting him to his feet. His quick thinking paid off, Adrien's whole body lurching as he gripped the edges of the trash bin.

As if recoiling from the previous fear of having lost her completely, his stomach threw everything up. He heaved, unable to control it, and was only minutely aware of the supportive hand on his back. And yet his body continued to retch, even long after his entire day's worth of food was gone.

By the time it was over, he was trembling all over, sweating, and once again watching the room dance in front of him. Carefully, Nino helped him sit back down on the floor, pushing the trashcan back with his sneaker.

Alya came jogging back a second later, paper towels in hand. She gave them to Adrien, who did his best to wipe his mouth even as his body clattered all around him.

He could feel it now, the actual cold, which only made his shivering worse.

"Where are we?" he asked a few moments later, leaning his head back against the wall as he closed his eyes.

"We're in the hospital," Alya explained. "The police gave us a ride here after they were done questioning us. They… they tried to question you, but you never gave any response. We told them we thought you were… in shock."

"They tried to call an ambulance for you too, but then you got up." Nino took over. "You never said anything, but you were… calm enough. You rode with us here and everything. And then you just wandered down the hall."

"Like you were looking for someone…" Alya finished quietly.

"We trailed you, and eventually you collapsed here. We've been sitting with you since." Nino pursed his lips. "You don't remember any of that?"

"No…" Not that he was entirely surprised.

Alya gulped. "Marinette's parents got here a little after we did. I still can't believe this happened."

Neither could Adrien. Marinette— _Ladybug_ —was supposed to have the best luck in the world. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wouldn't be surprising if _Adrien_ got hit by a truck, but there wasn't even an akuma involved.

"This is fucked up," he said aloud, quite unintentionally. Both Alya and Nino appeared surprised at his language, but he didn't bother acknowledging it. After all, they had to of put the pieces together by now. Not like Chat Noir was the type to watch his language. "How many people saw the kwami?" he asked a second later, if only to distract himself. It didn't bother him how steely his voice sounded.

"Uh, n-no one," Nino replied quietly. "Except us."

"And we kept them hidden," Alya finished.

"Good. Thank you," Adrien said a bit too formally, aware of the way both his friends shied a bit at his tone. Much like he had when his father had addressed him, once upon a time. Before he and Ladybug had put the man in prison.

Brushing such thoughts from his mind, Adrien suddenly pushed himself to his feet. He swayed a bit and Nino braced to catch him. He didn't fall, however, Plagg's tiny claws clipping his neck to hold on as Tikki floated up beside him. She must have darted out of the way when he'd puked his guts out.

She settled into the other side of his jacket collar, quite as though she belonged.

"You didn't know, did you?" Alya asked as he'd begun to walk away. He froze at her words, a chill running down his spine in the same moment. "You didn't know until today, did you?" she continued on bravely. "That Marinette… That she was Ladybug."

His lips pursed some, his insides once again fighting themselves as he tried to come up with an appropriate answer. "We agreed not to tell each other," he said stiffly.

"You two have been fighting together for over two years," Nino stated. "And you never knew?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" he replied. It was too sharp, he knew that. Unnecessary. But he couldn't bring himself to care. Instead, he pulled his attention away from them, dragging his feet down the hall, though he knew not where it lead.

Hospitals weren't exactly that difficult to maneuver in, though, and soon he was walking through a doorway that opened up into a waiting room. And, apparently, it was the right waiting room, as Sabine Cheng and Tom Dupain were sitting there. They turned to watch as he entered, probably hoping for someone else, and gaped soon after.

Which, really, he couldn't blame them for. Guilt over his conduct hit him for the first time after that. Because he'd blown his way into the waiting room covered in Marinette's dried blood without even a single consideration for the affect it'd have on anyone else.

"Sorry…" he mumbled out shortly after, his eyes darting to the men's room on the right. Yanking his gaze from the Dupain-Chengs, he went right for it, swinging the door in rather violently as he entered.

Taking a steadying breath, he went to the sinks, seeing himself for the first time that afternoon.

He was a mess. Not that this surprised him. His hair was disheveled, messy, and his skin was a clammy pale. His eyes were red from crying, and shadowed beneath from exhaustion. Dry lips completed the looks, as well as the stains splashed across his arms and front.

The sight nauseated him again, and he had to close his eyes against it. Putting his hands on the sink for support, he balanced there for a moment. Just long enough to find some kind of leverage. And once he had, he set his attention on his arms in the sink, turning on the water and grabbing paper towel that he then used to scrub at the bloody stains.

He knew he was rubbing too hard, that it wouldn't take much to wash the evidence away, but it felt satisfying to do it. To scrub at his skin until it glowed a bright, painful red. Not red like blood, just red with grief.

"I think you've done enough, man," Nino said quietly, coming up behind him. He removed the paper towel from Adrien's hands, shutting off the water shortly after. "Here, I bought this for you in the gift shop." He was holding out a clean, white shirt. "Do us all a favor and put it on before Marinette's parents see you again."

Was he being reprimanded? Adrien figured he probably deserved it.

"And get it together a bit, will you?" Nino dared to say. "I get that she's your partner and everything," understatement, "but if that's true, then the least you can do is quit acting like an asshole. I doubt Ladybug would approve."

Adrien wanted to snap back at him, to tell him that he didn't know the first thing about Ladybug or what she'd think, but another part of him knew his friend had a point. He was in the same boat as the rest of them. All they could do was wait. An out of control temper wouldn't help matters any.

"Alright," he agreed softly, taking the shirt from Nino. With a nod, his friend exited the bathroom again, Adrien swiftly changing before throwing his old stuff in the trash. He wasn't sure how kosher such was, but that certainly wasn't something he had the attention span to worry about. Instead, he brought his jacket to the sink and scrubbed at the dirtied parts of it, Tikki and Plagg doing their best to help him. It wasn't totally clean, but it was black, so it hid most of the stains.

Pulling it back on, the kwamis slipped into his collar again, hidden away and watching all the same.

There was blood on his pants too, but there wasn't much to do about that other than scrub. And so he emerged from the bathroom still red-stained and damp as well. But not nearly as gruesome, which was probably what mattered.

Alya and Nino were sitting with Marinette's parents, all of them looking up as he appeared. But he didn't know what to say to them, too ashamed of his failure. So he cast them a sympathetic look instead, before making his way over to the far seats beside the windows.

Slumping down, he glared out at the setting sun and tried to think of anything but what was happening.

Of course that didn't work. He was only able to sit there for about an hour before his nerves finally got to him. Huffing, he stood up and began to pace, aware of how the others watched him for a minute before going back to their own thoughts. He didn't bother correcting his posture or his gritted teeth, which meant he knew he looked like some kind of loping cat walking back and forth from one side of the room to the other. It was the walk that had first drawn the attention of so many designers—that, when perfected, worked wonders on a runway. In those moments, though, it'd lost its polish. He was all edges and no silk. But he was too agitated to care, his mind racing around what had happened over and over and over again.

If there was something he could have done—if he'd been too slow or unobservant. These thoughts tortured him, strangled him, and it was only the knowledge that they were, in fact, _waiting_ for news that kept him above water. This fact had him slipping from one side of the room to the other, sitting, crouching, pacing. It was only when they were breaching the five-hour mark—once that sun had gone down completely—that someone finally broke the silence.

"I'm going to go get us something to eat down at the cafeteria," Tom said quietly, laying a hand on his wife's leg. "Do you two want anything?" He'd turned to where Alya and Nino were sitting across from them.

Hesitant orders were given, Adrien drowning them out until it was his name that was spoken across the room.

"What about you, Adrien? Do you want anything?" It was Tom still.

Adrien shook his head, casting them a single look before returning his attention to the window.

"Alright, then you might as well help me carry it back," Tom continued, Adrien looking back at him again. "C'mon," he gestured to him as he stood. "A walk will be good for both of us."

Supposing there was no reason to say no, Adrien cast only one more look at the doors behind which Marinette resided, somewhere, before shoving his feet after Tom. He tailed the big man down the hall without a word, the two only getting somewhat close when they had to step into an elevator.

"She'll be alright, you know," Tom said once they were headed for the basement level. "She's strong. You know that."

Adrien flicked his gaze up to the other man, but still remained silent. Apparently, his look justified some kind of continued discourse.

"You can't honestly think I didn't know," Tom said as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. He wasn't looking at Adrien as he spoke. "Your disguises might have some sort of cloaking thing that hides your identities from other people, but a father knows his daughter."

Adrien had long since started listening intently, uncertain what to make of what was being said.

"Besides, she wasn't always as quiet as she thought, coming in late. It really wasn't that difficult to put the pieces together." He sighed as the elevator doors slid open, the both of them staying side by side now, as they walked. "Sabine doesn't want to see the reality of it, so she refuses to, but we're well aware."

Adrien didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all. He wondered, fleetingly, if his father would have recognized him more quickly if he'd been the kind of parent Tom was. But, then again, if he was like Tom in any way, then he wouldn't be in prison.

"What I'm trying to say is," Tom came to a sudden halt, his big hand turning Adrien toward him by the shoulder, "this isn't your fault. True, it was only Marinette that I recognized before, but as soon as I saw you pacing, I knew you were more than just Marinette's model friend, Adrien.

"I know you two are close—that you're partners—and that you're suffering just as much as we are about this." Adrien couldn't help looking down at his shoes, his shoulders tensing some. "What happened couldn't be helped—there was nothing you could have done. Sometimes even Ladybug gets unlucky."

"It's my job to protect her," Adrian admitted despite himself, his mouth clamping closed as soon as the words had escaped.

"I know," Tom said, tone far more understanding than Adrian felt he deserved. "It was mine too."

They didn't say anything else on the subject after that, instead going about getting the food with as few words of direction as possible. When they returned, the silence was just as stuffy as when they'd left, but Adrien tried to be a bit more civil. He paced just behind them now, instead of all over the room, and occasionally took a seat next to Alya or Nino before beginning his marching anew.

They were in the waiting room for nearly eight hours before one the many nurses and doctors that had come through the door finally called them.

Knowing his place, Adrien hung back a bit, listening intently as the doctor discussed the situation with Marinette's parents.

"We've managed to correct as much of the damage as possible," the doctor, still blood covered from surgery, began to explain. "She suffered a lot of damage internally," she gestured to her stomach area, "as well as multiple fractures, broken bones, and a serious head injury. We're keeping her in ICU for now, as she's still extremely unstable, and ask that only family be allowed back to see her."

That was enough for Adrien. Slipping away as silently as his experience had taught him, he headed down the elevator and out the door into the night air. Calling Plagg, he quickly transformed, Tikki propped on his shoulder as he extended his baton and shot up to the top of the building. Hunting around quickly, he located a door on the far side and used his advanced strength to force it open despite the lock.

He headed straight for the stairs, jumping down as many as he could until he was back on the seventh floor. Checking to make sure no one was around as he slipped into the hall, he then balanced on his baton and shot it up a few inches, until he could access the ceiling panels.

Shifting one quietly aside, he pushed himself the rest of the way up, pulling his baton after him. Replacing the tile, he watched with his night vision as Tikki flitted back and forth in the cramped space.

"This way," she whispered, Chat creeping across the supports after her. He didn't question how she knew. Like he and Plagg, Marinette and Tikki had a bond. And with that came certain, unexplainable advantages.

It took them some minutes, but eventually a familiar set of voices caught in Chat's twitching ears. Pausing to listen, he remained stock still, Tikki landing on his shoulder. The voices were directly below them.

"They don't even know if she'll wake up, Tom," Sabine was saying, her voice clogged and shaky. "What if she doesn't wake up?"

Chat pursed his lips, closing his eyes as he tried to settle his own nerves. The last thing the family needed was him up there, breaking down and interrupting their visiting time. He was Ladybug's, Marinette's, friend, but he didn't come first. Not in this. Not ever, really.

"She'll wake up," Tom assured, and Chat could almost envision how his big arms encircled her. "She's a tough girl. Nothing, not even this, will keep her down." Chat wanted to believe those words. Desperately. He couldn't even consider his life without her—all of her. Doing so, having to face that reality, had bent his world beyond repair.

If she didn't wake up, if she didn't survive.

He didn't know what he'd do.

It was selfish, and stupid, but she was more than just a friend. More than just his partner. He wasn't meaning to imply anything romantic, because there was no truth there (whether he wanted that to change or not), but whatever was between him and Ladybug was bigger than both of them. Was something he didn't know how to describe. Because when she swung, he jumped, and when she fell, he chased. And when she smiled, he did too. Maybe it was crazy, feeling that kind of attachment to someone, and maybe it was one-sided, but, even so, without her, he was nothing.

She was his heart. She was his _everything_.

Gulping back on his own emotions, he listened a while longer as Sabine and Tom spoke, as they stayed in the room as long as they could before the staff came to get them. He heard mumbled apologies from the nurse, who tried to justify why they couldn't stay, and soon he heard the door to the room click closed.

Tikki was practically vibrating on his shoulder, and so he didn't postpone their visit any longer.

Slipping his nails between the seams, he shifted one of the tiles aside, glancing around the room below to make sure it was clear. Satisfied that no one was there, he dropped down and quickly surveyed the rest of the unit.

He wouldn't be able to stay long. Reaching up, he cupped Tikki with his gloved hand, hiding her. This was the intensive care unit, which meant it was on watch by the staff at all times. This was made abundantly clear by the viewing windows lining one side, which stared out into the hall. No privacy. He'd be seen—there was no getting around it.

Knowing his time was limited, he turned to the bed. So many machines, so many tubes and ties and needles. She looked so small beneath it all, her black hair loose and fanning her face. She was covered, so he couldn't see anything but her head. There were a few bandages on her face, mostly along her right ear. But even that was difficult to really examine. Because there was a mask helping her to breathe, and all of it, every piece, was like a barrier between them.

He couldn't help with this. Even as he crept up along the side of the bed, as close as he dared get, he knew there was nothing he could do. This was one battle she had to fight without him, despite how that fact ripped at his insides.

"I'll help her," Tikki squeaked out, slipping out of his grip and onto the sheets. "I'll stay with her. I'm good luck, you know." She smiled. "I'll stay."

"You'll have to stay hidden," Chat murmured. "There'll be doctors and nurses in and out of here all the time."

"I'll be careful," she said simply, before fluttering under the sheets and out of sight.

As if to fulfill his prediction, two nurses walked by the windows, coming to a dead, gaping halt when they saw him there, beside the bed. He looked at them only quickly, knowing his time was up.

Leaning down, he cupped her cheek as best he could, avoiding all the machinery. Hovering above her for just a moment, he flicked is focus to every part of her face, to every bit of her he could, before closing his eyes and committing it to memory.

He could hear more people gathering outside the viewing windows. He had to go.

Gently, he placed his lips against her forehead. He paused there a moment, giving himself that, and let his heart splinter a little further inside his chest. It was hard to breathe; hard to be with her and know she wasn't really there. Not then. Maybe not ever again.

Pulling back despite how his body ached to stay, he avoided the viewing windows as he went to the exterior ones. Glancing only once more over his shoulder at the bed, he watched, waiting for the silence to break and knowing it wouldn't.

Pulling the window open, he slipped out into the night, only pausing long enough to make sure it was closed securely behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this story could also be called "the one where everyone knows," lol. Oh well. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed and please leave comments if you can :D
> 
> And feel free to follow me on tumblr - SKayLanphear  
> I'm always up for a chat!


	3. Chapter 3

**MARINETTE**

Looking back, she couldn't quite believe she'd ever thought getting up for school was hard. This was, by far, much worse. The time of day varied now, but morning or afternoon, it didn't matter. She still woke up hoping it'd be easier and, somehow, it never seemed that it was. Her eyes were heavy, the lights were harsh, and her whole body was a smattering of nauseous aches.

"Hello, honey," her mother greeted as she opened her eyes, peering blearily around the hospital room. It wasn't the same one she'd woken up in the first time. That had been the intensive care unit, or so her parents had said. This was her own personal room, where she'd been moved to six days following her surgery. She thought those were the facts, anyway. Her brain was pretty fuzzy on drugs most of the time.

"Mom," she rasped out, thankful when a glass of water was handed her way. That was always her first demand upon waking up. Something about the drugs made her throat ache. At first, she hadn't been allowed water, and that had made waking up even worse. Usually, she'd just turned her head to the side and cried herself back to sleep. But now, two weeks later, things were a bit more lenient. She drank the water, savoring the chill, as her mother called for the nurses.

They filed in a few minutes later, Marinette getting through what followed with little shame these days. They uncovered her, the tall, sweet older nurse (who was much stronger than she looked) picked her up before taking her to the bathroom nearby. Following, she was returned to her bed, which had been strapped with fresh sheets. They propped her up now, the back of the bed at an angle as she leaned against it.

She hadn't even done anything and she already felt exhausted.

After hooking her back up to the appropriate machines, the nurses checked her vitals before leaving. Once they were out of the way, her mother came up to the side of the bed and began combing through her hair. The pigtails from the day before were a mess, so she redid them, tying back her daughter's greasy hair without complaint.

Marinette was given a shower every three days and this was day two. Maybe, if she weren't so preoccupied with how her body seemed to float around her half the time, she'd have had the self-consciousness to care.

"They're going to bring your lunch up in an hour," her mother explained as she sat down beside the bed, smiling softly. Marinette just nodded, vaguely wondering how many drugs they still had her on. This was something she wondered nearly every day. She didn't like it, the idea of drugs filtering through her system, but she didn't want to imagine what it'd be like without them either.

Tikki shifted behind her pillow. She could only assume her kwami hid under the bed when they changed the sheets.

"I also have some good news," her mother went on. "The doctors have finally cleared you for more visitors." More than just family. "I called Alya this morning and she said she'd be over as soon as you woke up. Do you want me to text her?" Marinette nodded, the idea of seeing her best friend, even in her state, causing her to smile a little against her chapped lips.

Laughing lightly, Sabine pulled out her phone and sent the text.

"Is there anyone else you want to come see you?" she asked, reaching out to push some of Marinette's bangs from her face. "That nice boy, Nino, stayed through your surgery with us. And so did Adrien. Would you like me to have Alya bring them as well?"

"No," Marinette choked out. She felt her shame at what had happened wash over her. It pained her to think her friends had seen the accident, had witnessed the gruesome sight. She didn't want to cause them more anxiety over the whole ordeal.

"Marinette…" Her mother sighed beside her. "I know you may not want to see very many people right now, but… Adrien was very worried about you. I think that he'd very much like to come see you."

Marinette shook her head against her pillow. And so, the subject was dropped.

"Ms. Cheng?" Tikki had popped her head out from behind the pillow.

Sabine smiled down at the little kwami, Marinette still uncertain of what to think of the fact that her parents knew about her alter ego. Her mother had expressed discomfort over the whole thing, but her father—who must be manning the bakery that morning—had seemed proud. As a result, they were the ones making sure to bring Tikki cookies and other sweets every morning, Sabine reaching into her purse before pulling out two cookies and handing them to Tikki.

Wanting to stay out of sight of the nurses, the red kwami pulled the confections back under the pillow with her, the sounds of her quiet munching nearly lulling Marinette back to sleep.

It was Alya's voice that jolted her back into awareness.

"Sorry," Alya whispered as she slowly crept into the room, her posture oddly hunched as she looked around. "Were you going back to sleep?"

"No," Marinette rasped out, thankful her voice was a little stronger than it had been previously. She smiled, thrilled to see Alya despite how her body failed to express the notion.

"I'll leave you two alone," Sabine said then, standing before heading for the door. Once she was gone, Alya made her way over to the vacated chair, taking Marinette's hand as she sat down. She sniffed, as if fighting back tears, but her smile made it clear they weren't the bad kind.

Marinette sighed. "I look terrible," she muttered out.

Alya laughed. "You look wonderful, girl, trust me," she assured. "Never better." There was clear relief in her voice, her tone nearly bringing Marinette to tears as well. But crying was exhausting, so she pushed back on the sensation.

"Everyone at school is so worried about you," Alya went on. "Rose made a card and everything. They all want to come visit you during lunch sometime." She giggled. "Even Chloe agreed to come, but she made sure to be unpleasant about the whole thing."

"I find it hard to believe that…" Marinette took a deep breath, "…that even Chloe misses me."

"I know." Alya shook her head. "But… it was really scary, what happened to you. It was on the news and everything."

"Really?" Marinette closed her eyes painfully. She was used to being on the news, but not usually like this.

"Yeah, someone recorded it with their phone," Alya said, sounding rather disgusted. "It went viral."

Marinette cocked a skeptical brow.

"Not the part where you were hit," Alya corrected. "Actually, it was Adrien spazzing out that went viral. The parts with you were edited out."

"Adrien?" Marinette didn't understand.

"Uh, yeah." Alya gulped, stroking Marinette's hand some. "After you were hit, he kind of… freaked out. Attacked two cops, even."

"I don't… remember." The last thing she recalled was telling Adrien to get a message to Chat Noir. He'd seemed calm enough then.

"Yeah, it was after…" Alya's focus fell pointedly to the side, Marinette furrowing her eyebrows curiously.

"Hello, Alya." It was then that Tikki decided to pop her head out from behind the pillow, Marinette momentarily tensing at her kwami revealing herself. But Alya didn't seem the least bit surprised, though her face did pull into an expression of curious skepticism.

"Uh, Tikki, right?" Alya asked, Tikki coming out fully before sitting beside Marinette's pillow.

"You know," Marinette managed to choke out.

"I…" Alya took a deep breath, laying Marinette's hand down on the bed again. "It was an accident. Your purse, it flew off when you were hit. I found it and..." She shrugged. Clearly, there was more to the story, but she wasn't relaying it all. Marinette knew her best friend well enough to realize when she was hiding something.

But she'd been hiding something too. Something bigger. So perhaps that was where her focus should be. Besides, her last words about Chat hadn't exactly been conspicuous. She owed her friend an explanation.

"I'm sorry," Marinette murmured, staring down at her lap. "I didn't want to hide from you."

"I know," Alya assured with a big smile. "It's okay. I get it. I mean, I never actually thought I'd know Ladybug or Chat Noir's identities, so it was fun chasing them down. But, I knew that if I ever did find them, I wouldn't reveal them. Even if I'd wanted to. That'd be dangerous, right?"

Marinette nodded.

"That's why you kept it a secret, to keep everyone safe." Alya patted her hand. "I won't tell anyone, promise. And neither will Nino. We've already discussed it." So Nino knew as well? "In fact," Alya grinned, "this could be good. The Ladyblog is one of the most popular places to get info on Ladybug. Knowing who you really are means I can direct attention away from you."

Marinette let out a short laugh. "You're going to lie?"

"Not lie." Alya shook her head. "Just… bend the evidence in a different direction."

Marinette pulled her hand up and laid it on Alya's. "Thank you."

"Of course! You and Chat Noir have done so much for Paris. I couldn't reveal you guys."

Marinette's attention fell again. "Chat. Did someone… Did you manage to tell him what happened? Somehow? I've… missed a lot of patrols."

"I…" Alya faltered, looking down at Tikki before glancing again to Marinette. "He-he knows. I- He knows what happened."

"Good." Marinette hadn't realized how much Chat's knowledge, or lack of knowledge, had been weighing on her. It felt like a huge blanket had been lifted, leaving her open to easier breathing. "I'd hate for him to worry."

"Uh, well," Alya looked again at Tikki, who said nothing. "He- He's pretty worried anyway." Marinette frowned. "Can't really blame him, after what happened. Not like it was a minor accident or something…"

"What did you guys tell him?" Had they revealed all the worst? Had they worried him needlessly? Simply telling him she'd been in an accident and was recovering would have been sufficient. Granted, maybe Chat deserved more details, but she would have hoped they'd have had the decency not to cause him any unnecessary grief.

"I… It's not…" Alya huffed, shoulders slumping. "We didn't 'tell' him anything, Marinette. He was… He was there."

"What?" Marinette blinked in alarm.

"He was there," Alya repeated. "He saw the whole thing. He knows."

"I don't understand…"

"Marinette…" Alya was clearly uncomfortable. "It's… I don't know that I should…"

The sound of a knock on the room door cut through their conversation, much to Marinette's abrupt irritation. Her lagging brain stayed on the point a little longer than it should have. On Chat. He must have simply been a passerby when it'd happened, or maybe the police sirens had drawn him in? How had he been there?

She hadn't wanted him to see. She hadn't wanted _anyone_ to see.

"Hey." It was Nino who poked his head in the door. "Sorry." He cringed, just barely slipping into the room. "I know we weren't invited, but we figured it could only mean one thing when Alya left class." He shrugged, fiddling with his headphones. "I thought this guy was going to vibrate right out of his seat, so I made him come too." He'd nodded toward the door, to someone Marinette couldn't see.

Alya had slumped some in relief beside her.

"Dude, will you just get in here?" Nino was speaking to whoever was on the other side of the door now, before huffing in frustration and reaching out. With a yank, he pulled Adrien into the room, the handsome blonde stumbling as Nino closed the door behind them.

Marinette couldn't help the way her eyes locked on Adrien. Many things flew through her head, namely the fact that, if Alya and Nino knew, then Adrien probably did too. Which made he feel even worse.

She'd long since given up pursuing Adrien romantically. Not to say her feelings for him had simply gone away—because they hadn't—but, rather, it was the guilt over his father that had stopped her. She and Chat had been the ones to catch Gabriel Agreste and put him in prison. It'd devastated Adrien, she knew, and so any kind of romantic intentions she had toward him had been pushed aside. Anyone she was serious about would eventually know she was Ladybug, she'd accepted that. How could she possibly have admitted such a thing to Adrien? No, she hadn't stood a chance with him to begin with, but the fact that she'd put his father in prison had stopped her own hopes.

She'd settled for being his friend, for being there whenever he needed. That was the least she could offer him, and the most without hurting him worse.

But now he knew. Now, he was defensive on the other side of the room, shoulders hunched. He looked at her only quickly, before his eyes darted away. He appeared tired, his hair uncharacteristically messy, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

She knew it was her fault. It was the same expression he'd worn for days after his father's arrest and during the hearing. This wasn't how she'd wanted him to find out. She hadn't wanted him to find out at all. How could she possibly face him now, when he knew she was the one that had done it? That she was the one who had ruined his already broken family?

Her own focus fell back to the bed sheets, before he had the guts to look at her again.

Nino had walked over beside Alya. He reached out to Marinette, a good distraction, before bending down and placing a simple kiss on the top of her head.

"How you doin,' beautiful?" he asked as he leaned back, eyes soft. Marinette smiled weakly up at him, not for the first time warmed by his attitude. She'd long since stopped wondering what Alya saw in him, realizing that despite his goofy attitude, he was one of the most caring, loyal, and compassionate people in their lives.

"I'm okay," she choked out, the emotion—grief, embarrassment, pain—welling up in her throat and threatening to bring her to tears. She fought it though, taking a shaky breath to steady herself.

"Hello, Nino," Tikki greeted, floating up toward him with a smile on her face.

"Ah, Tikki?" he questioned, smiling, and she nodded. "I feel like I know you already. If Plagg isn't talking about Camembert, he's talking about you."

Marinette frowned. "Plagg?" That was the name of Chat's kwami. She'd never come into contact with him, but Chat had mentioned him on occasion. The better question, though, was how did Nino know Plagg? And sound so familiar with him?

Tikki giggled, zooming once around Nino and Alya before settling back down beside Marinette.

"Yeah, Plagg," Nino said simply, casting an almost exasperated look at Adrien before focusing back on Marinette. "Annoying little cat-thing obsessed with cheese. And bad jokes. Very, very bad jokes. Some of his jokes are almost as bad as Adrien's." He'd looked pointedly at his best friend again.

Adrien, who was still huddled on the other side of the room. Marinette found just enough courage to look up at him again, from beneath heavy lashes. He was watching her now, lips pursed and hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. He looked so uncomfortable. Why had Nino dragged him along? Why would Adrien want to see Ladybug?

He _didn't_. He didn't want to see her.

And she didn't blame him.

"How do you know Plagg?" Marinette asked, turning to look back up at Nino. "Have you been updating Chat?" That was the only logical conclusion she could come to.

Nino sighed, as if frustrated, and set a glare on Adrien. "Dude! _C'mon_."

"It's okay, Nino," Marinette assured, assuming he was upset at Adrien's distance. "You don't have to stay." She finally got up the gumption to look at Adrien fully. "I know… how you must feel about me." The implication behind her words was obvious, or so she thought.

Adrien blinked at her, his lips parting some in surprise before he scrunched his eyes closed and turned away again. He was gritting his teeth—she could see it in the way he held his jaw—and she hated herself for doing that to him.

She hated that she'd caused him pain at all.

Nino appeared even more irritated, if at all possible. Marinette tried to return to the previous subject.

"How is Chat?" she asked. "Is he worried? I didn't want to worry him…"

"He's worried," Nino practically snapped, his gaze still trained on Adrien. "He's just being an idiot."

Marinette didn't get it. Lips parting some, she glanced back to Adrien, not understanding Nino's body language or accusing tone. Adrien had the right to be bitter with her, to be hurt. Everything he felt was justified.

Yet, as she met those green eyes again, she saw something else.

Adrien's own guilt.

What did he have to feel guilty about?

Her thoughts were slow, connections only coming together gradually.

When she'd been laying there, on the ground, body broken and bleeding, it had been Adrien's green eyes that had reminded her of Chat. The two were so similar in color and she'd been surprised at how quickly her thoughts had gone straight to her partner. But, really, it made sense. They'd worked together for years, saved each other more times than they could count. When together, they functioned as one being, knew the other's moves before they'd even taken them.

And as she watched Adrien, she found herself reminded of Chat again. Because Adrien didn't shy away, or bite his lip, or get uncomfortable. Adrien was confident and easy going, and took punches with a grace Marinette had always envied. But Chat hunched away when hurt, and he bit his lip when he was nervous—just as Adrien was doing now.

When had Marinette memorized such things? When had Chat's imprint become such a huge part of her own person?

Why did Adrien remind her so much of him?

Those eyes…

" _No, don't close your eyes!_ " She remembered, the words slamming into her. The memory didn't carry any visuals, but that voice… " _Don't go! I can't do this without you!_ "

Chat's voice. When had he been there, during the accident? When had he been so close?

" _You can't leave me! I need you! Marinette! You're all I've got!_ " When had he learned her name?

" _I can't lose you!_ "

Adrien's eyes, staring down at her. Panicked, familiar.

Chat's eyes.

Maybe it was the drugs, or the fog lifting out of a lesson learned in near-death desperation. But she began to see it then.

And she knew. She didn't quite know how or why, but it was like these two things she'd always loved were abruptly muddled together, laced with guilt, coiled concern, and misery right before her. Across the room, looking at her like he wanted to run away and run to her in the exact same moment.

But he was frozen, so uncertain and so distraught.

He had been there; he'd seen it all. And he'd found out in the worst possible way.

She'd done that to him. And she regretted, not for the first time, having put her message on Adrien's shoulders.

How had she not seen it before?

All of this washed over her in only a few seconds, Alya and Nino looking between her and Adrien in tight-lipped silence. But Marinette had nearly forgotten they were even there. Rather, she felt herself existing only with him, much like they did when they were soaring over rooftops and sweeping between buildings. Like one person in two bodies, she had his despair, his absolute desolation and anguish. It ricocheted between them, because she was forced to imagine him in her place—if only to understand the way he was looking at her.

It was a prospect that pained her even to consider, let alone actually live through.

She was sorry she'd done this to him. She was so, so sorry.

Blinking back her exhaustion, she shakily raised her hand. She reached out to him, palm down as she smiled weakly. As she tried to, somehow, reassure him that everything was okay. That the nightmare was over.

"Here," she said quietly, her voice torn with her own sandpaper emotions. "Come here, kitty, kitty."

 _Her_ kitty.

She hadn't meant for her words to hit him as they did, but perhaps there hadn't been any avoiding it. Not after what had happened. He actually flinched away, eyes scrunching closed as a tremble wracked his whole body—one that ended with an aching cringe pulling at his lips.

She didn't have much energy, but what little she did have, she saved completely for him. Though it quivered, she kept her hand outstretched toward him. Waiting.

She'd wait forever for him, if that was what it took.

There was no holding it in. Something between a sob and a gasp left his lips, like his whole body was breaking apart with it. And as he turned back to her, there were already tears streaming down his cheeks. He laughed, maybe, or groaned, like everything inside of him was fighting, leaving him raw and exposed.

And yet Marinette kept reaching out. She smiled as best she could, a single tear marring her own cheek.

He gave in.

It was almost as though he collapsed toward her, fumbling across the room until he was at her side. He took her hand in his own, unable to control how his body convulsed, pushing his emotions out of him as he fell into the chair beside her. He was shaking all over, barely able to hold her hand despite his desperation to do so. He cried, sobbed, pulling her knuckles to his lips.

He broke down.

"It's okay," Marinette murmured, wanting to lean over and comfort him, but unable to. She cursed her own body, her own weakness, and instead had to settle for flexing her hand against his own.

"I-I-I th-thought I'd-d los-st you," he whimpered out, teeth gritting.

"I'm right here, Chat," she said quietly, pushing against his hold until she could lay her hand against his cheek. "I'm okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

He'd turned his nose into her hand, holding it there against the tears that fell continually down his cheeks. Until he pulled it around to his lips, kissing her palm and refusing to let her go.

He'd never let her go.

A black flash flew out of his collar a moment later, joining Tikki on the other side of the bed. Green eyes wide, he watched alongside his kwami partner, Alya, and Nino as Adrien's shields shattered. Nothing but nerves, he leaned his elbows on the bed and simply fell apart, Marinette's hand never released.

It wasn't until everything had been drained from his body, nearly half an hour later, that he reclaimed something akin to steady breathing. He still trembled and held Marinette's hand in his own, though it'd been lowered to the bed. No one had said a word the whole time, and even when he was nothing more than dead, tired eyes staring downward, no one commented on his break down.

Rather, once it'd seemed appropriate, Nino had cleared his throat and begun conversation, drawing Marinette's attention even as Adrien kept ahold of her. He asked about the kwami, as did Alya, and soon they were speaking of Ladybug and Chat Noir as if some sort of emotional break hadn't happened. It was a good distraction while Adrien slowly gathered himself together, at least enough to put the pieces in a bag and tie it closed.

It was when Sabine finally returned, Tom with her this time, that Nino and Alya decided to excuse themselves. Marinette needed her rest as well, which would have made their visit short anyway.

They faltered as they rounded the bed to leave, eyeing Adrien. He was still hunched in the chair, seemingly unaware of their departure. Before anything could be said to rouse him, however, Tom waved them on.

"He can stay," Sabine said simply, Alya and Nino nodding before heading out.

Marinette was thankful her parents let Adrien remain. She wanted him to stay, even if she was on the verge of falling asleep again. For a little while, she chatted with her father, but ultimately was too tired to keep it up. She watched Adrien for a few minutes, whishing there was something she could say but knowing words wouldn't do any good. And then she watched Plagg and Tikki flit around, their dancing above her head enough to lull her.

She fell asleep with her hand in Adrien's,

When she woke up again later, it was dark. The only light on in the room was the one behind her head, which was on constantly. The drapes had been pulled shut and her parents weren't there. They'd stopped staying through the night some few days ago, once the doctors had confidently explained that she was in better than stable condition.

But, nonetheless, she wasn't alone.

Beside her, arm folded under his head atop the bed, was Adrien. Someone—her mother or a nurse, perhaps—had draped a blanket over his back. He still held her hand, though he was obviously asleep, and Marinette couldn't help smiling despite her own drowsiness.

Carefully, once her head was a little less foggy, she slipped her hand from his before reaching out to him. She sifted her fingers through his hair, focusing more on the softness than the nauseous ache that permeated her body, seemingly all the time.

She wasn't sure if she'd intended to wake him. Maybe she had. She knew he wouldn't mind.

He pulled his head up slowly, looking pale and tired as he blinked. Her hand fell away, coming to sit in her lap as he rubbed his eyes.

Plagg popped out from behind her pillow a moment later, zooming right up into Adrien's face.

"I thought you'd never wake up," he said somewhat shortly, his tone causing Adrien to furrow his brows in displeasure. "Not that I'm complaining. Marinette's parents got me all the cheese I wanted. They've treated me better today than you ever have."

Adrien frowned. "Get out of my face, Plagg," he said, voice thick. "I treat you just as well as you deserve to be treated." He waved the kwami away.

Watching, Marinette giggled a little, head leaning back against the pillow. The noise drew Adrien's attention, his focus falling to her for a moment before a flush of redness overcame his cheeks.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"That makes two of us."

"You need your rest," he continued. "I can go, if you-"

"No, don't go," Marinette croaked out, reaching her hand to take his again, a dizzy chill worming up her arm in response to her quick action. "Please, stay." She didn't mean to sound so demanding, and knew that if her face wasn't already red as a result of her condition, she'd be blushing.

Adrien didn't object, instead returning her hold as he relaxed some in his seat. They didn't say anything for a few moments, Marinette closing her eyes as she tried to gather her thoughts against her traitorous body.

"I'm sorry," she said a moment later, taking a deep breath. "About your father. I… I wish you'd told me." It was worse, not only having a father sent to prison, but being the one that had sent him there. He'd had to testify twice, as both Adrien and Chat Noir. She'd never known.

She blamed herself. She'd always been so adamant about them keeping their identities a secret. And now, she was finding out, it may have done more damage than good. Not only had it resulted in her being unable to be there for her friend at his worst—because she hadn't known "Adrien" well enough to truly be there for him—but their identities had then been revealed in one of the cruelest, most painful fashions she could imagine.

"It's okay," he assured quickly, smiling that soft, Adrien smile—the one that was so full of loneliness and restraint. "You were there. You've always been there, far more than anyone else ever has."

"I've been so stupid…" she murmured. "I should have told you who I was a long time ago."

"No, it's fine," he cut in once more. "Really."

"You wanted to know," she went on, aware of how her regret welled up in her throat, behind her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't cry," he murmured, standing. "It's okay, Marinette. Please, don't cry."

But she didn't have the control that she normally did and the tears fell anyway. She tried to sniff against them, but it didn't work. And then he was gently wiping them away with his thumb, which only made her cry more.

"It's okay," he whispered, leaning over and placing his lips against her forehead. "Everything's alright now." Maybe his words were for her, maybe for both of them. She didn't care either way. Rather, she put all her strength into reaching out to him, in grabbing his over shirt so as to keeping him from slipping away.

She knew he didn't dare get closer to her. She could feel it in the stiffness of his posture, in how close he hovered without touching. Like she was made of glass. And the worst of it was, in those moments, she really was. She hated it. She wanted to pull him in and never let go—try to erase the horrible emptiness that had plagued her since the accident, when she'd thought she'd never see him again.

Instead, she had to settle for his lips on her forehead and his hand caressing her cheek. It wasn't enough, not near enough, but it'd have to do.

He reached up and took the hand that was holding his shirt after a few seconds, pulling her grip away as he sat back down.

"Don't leave," she practically begged.

"I'm not leaving," he said, voice steady. "I'll never leave you, Marinette."

And so he didn't.

He stayed with her all through the night, eventually falling asleep again, slumped in his seat as close to her bed as he could get. When her father showed up in the morning, he woke him for school. Adrien almost didn't go, anxious to speak with Marinette before he left, but Tom made him—as he told his daughter when she opened her eyes a few hours later.

But he came back for lunch, and after school too. He was with her whenever he could be, even if the nurses and doctors found it odd that he'd rather sleep in a chair beside her than go home to his own bed. Her parents didn't object to it either, simply letting his persistent presence be.

No one even said a word when, a week later, they found him sleeping in bed beside her, as opposed to in the chair. That was simply the way it was going to be, no objection worth trying.

He was with her all day during the weekends, eventually becoming a comforting addition for everyone when her parents couldn't be there. They watched movies, and made fun of the awful hospital food. When she was having a good day, he was there to make her laugh. And when she wasn't, he sat beside her in bed with an arm around her shoulders as she cried, miserable and sick with a body that was broken and useless.

The doctors, however, were astounded by her recovery, even if she wasn't. They'd expected a plethora of complications, but everything was moving along smoothly. They were constantly going on about how lucky she was, that her recovery was simply "miraculous."

Adrien made sure to bring Tikki extra sweets whenever he could, silently assuming she was the one behind Marinette's improving condition.

When she was finally allowed to go home, he was right there beside her on the ride back, Sabine and Tom having long accepted him as being wherever she was. Marinette had caught the ways they looked at him on occasion—sometimes like he was this shining bright star of a young man, and other times with sympathy. Likely, they knew who he was—both sides of him—and understood, perhaps, why Marinette was so precious to him.

They trusted him with her, which said a great deal. But perhaps, after realizing how many times he'd put himself in harm's way to protect her, there'd really been no options as far as their feelings toward him. It was what it was and that was it.

Being home was harder at first. There were no nurses to help, no one to go to when things got tough. It was straining on everyone, the fact that Adrien came by as soon as school was out both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because when the shop was busy, there was someone there to look after her. And a curse for the same reason.

Marinette lost her temper more than she should have, got upset and frustrated, and, generally, he was on the receiving end. But he took it all without complaining, as patient with her as he'd ever been. More often than not, she'd end up apologizing, only to get a small smile and a kiss on the forehead as reassurance.

The more time they spent together, the more Chat started to emerge. It was during these moments that she realized "Adrien" was the sad side of him. The lonely, serious side that worked hard and was overly disciplined. He was still compassionate and kind, as always, but it was "Chat" that cracked the stupid jokes and made her laugh. That smiled wider and stayed up with her watching movies and talking excitedly about his favorite anime. They weren't separate people, she knew that, but two parts of a whole she hadn't realized was one piece before.

She loved both, _all_ , sides of him.

"Were you disappointed?" she'd asked one evening, sitting on the couch surrounded in blankets. He'd been behind her, standing, and tying her hair into new pigtails with a skill level he hadn't had three weeks before.

"About what?"

"About me," she'd explained quietly. "When you found out who I was."

He hadn't said anything right away, instead finishing with her hair before rounding the couch to crouch down in front of her. He'd smiled, the expression gentle, and put his hands over her own.

"I could never be disappointed in you," he'd said. "You were my friend, both as Ladybug and Marinette. There's nothing to be disappointed about." He'd leaned up and kissed her forehead, a sensation that Marinette had grown far too accustomed to.

She'd told him she hadn't been disappointed either.

School was over for the year when she was finally well enough to go back. Thankfully, with Adrien's tutoring, she'd been keeping up as best she could. The school had agreed to let her test out of her classes before the next year, so as not to fall behind, and so their evenings then included study sessions with Alya and Nino too.

It was two weeks before the next school year that she was finally given the go-ahead by her doctors to commence in what had previously been regular activities. Of course, her recreational pursuits had been somewhat more straining than most people's, so her parents, as well as Adrien, had strictly forbidden that she return to being Ladybug. Chat was already doing patrols again, had been for a while, and it irked her to no end that she wasn't allowed to go with him. Instead, she had to settle for sitting on her balcony until he inevitably dropped in. Her parents knew he was there, but they never said anything. He always went home sometime late, but was back the next morning as Adrien to pester her.

It was the night before their first day of school that her patience finally snapped. She wasn't getting any better sitting around at home, after all, and needed the feeling of the wind whipping her face, muscles stretching as she swung through the city. Tikki and Plagg had told them, after all, that there'd be more enemies they had to face—more like Hawkmoth. She had to be in shape for whenever their next enemy appeared.

So, with Tikki's nod of approval, she'd transformed into Ladybug for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

The elation of doing so was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Her stamina wasn't totally up to par, but her arms and legs did as she told them. There was no pain, no struggle, and she let the thrill seep through her as she traipsed from roof to roof, laughing out loud despite herself.

Chat was not pleased when they finally ran into one another.

"What are you doing?" he asked as soon as he dropped down in front of her.

"What's it look like, kitty?" she asked, tapping him on the cheek as she walked around him. "Patrolling. Same as you."

"You didn't tell me you were coming out."

"I didn't know I had to ask for permission."

It was the wrong thing to say. She knew as soon as she said it. Chat frowned, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. And she sighed, turning and pulling his hand toward her apologetically.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I should have told you." After everything he'd done for her, that was the least she could have done. "I just… couldn't take being cooped up anymore."

He dropped his stiff posture a second later, releasing a huff as he let her play with his hands.

"Just don't push yourself, okay?" he said carefully. "If you need to rest, just tell me."

"I will," she promised, smiling up at him before they finally separated and romped off into the night. Their patrol ended atop the Eiffel Tower, the two of them sitting side by side with the starry night above them.

"Chat," she said after a rather long silence, which had followed some very poorly executed jokes on his part.

"Yes, My Lady."

Their thighs were pressed together where they sat, Marinette watching their feet swing back and forth lazily.

"Adrien," she said after a moment, drawing his eyes that time.

"Yes, Marinette."

She met his gaze, smiling beneath her mask. "Thank you. For everything."

His warm, small smile was more than enough response. It was, unfortunately, followed quickly by a devious grin.

"Well, you know what they say," he purred, leaning his head closer to her own. "In sickness and in health."

Ladybug was _not_ amused.

"Was that a proposal?" she asked, leaning back a bit. "Because we're only seventeen, for one, and I don't know that I want to marry you anyway, Alley Cat."

"You wound me, My Lady." He placed a clawed hand on his chest. "And here I thought I'd made some kind of puurr-ogress."

Ladybug tapped her foot against his own. "You've made some," she assured coyly. "Just not that much."

"Well, better that than nothing," he replied quietly. "On a serious note," his tone took a dive, "you may take my words however you wish, Marinette. Simply know that they are sincere, and that I am yours—always."

Her breath caught in her throat, those vivid green eyes slowly blinking down at her. She knew her lips had parted some, and that her cheeks were splashed with red. His own were too, his fingers hesitant as he gathered her hands into his. She didn't pull back—didn't want to—and instead watched with flutterings in her stomach as he leaned in closer.

He didn't go all the way though, only just barely allowing the tips of their noses to brush. Just like always, he'd let her take the lead. He'd live on the precipice of her actions.

She didn't want to make him wait any longer.

Closing the distance between them, she pressed her lips to his.

And everything inside her began to sing.

"Not a proposal," she murmured when they broke apart, only a hair's breadth between them. "But a promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! My first, completed Miraculous fic! I hope you all enjoyed it and please let me know what you thought! I love you all! Thanks so, so, so much for the support :DDDDD

**Author's Note:**

> Leave reviews guys, please. They mean a lot. 
> 
> And feel free to follow me on tumblr - SKayLanphear
> 
>  
> 
> I NEED HELP!
> 
> Hey guys! I’m brainstorming another long fic—what I’m calling my Hiatus Fic (that’s not the title, lol. Doesn’t have one yet)—and I have a lot of it planned, but I need your help! I want to include all the good stuff that’s usually in my fics, plus a little more! And I’m no good at coming up with akuma ideas. So that’s where I need you guys! If you have any akuma ideas that you’d like to share, please message me on my tumblr at SKayLanphear. I can’t guarantee that they’ll appear, but I need help! You’re all so amazing, and I know from reading your reviews that you all come up with some really great ideas (I’ve even used some of them). So don’t be shy, even if you think your akuma is silly—those are some of the best ones! 
> 
> Please, please help! That way I can make this next fic the best one yet :D


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